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Weekly Contest #363
The littlest angel perched on the edge of a cloud to watch the great descent.She tucked the cloud in around her like a cool, moist blanket so it covered her dappled grey wings which were mostly the colour of twilight. Any angel who looked this way would see her, but feeling hidden felt better.The first of the departing angels dived from a higher up cloud, wings tightly held in to gain speed. How she wished she could plummet toward earth like a falling star, too.But she had not been called yet.She sighed and watched another angel dive.All her...
Weekly Contest #352
When Victoria was nine years old, her mother said, “If you don’t stop that, I’m leaving and never coming back.”The child might have been racing from room to room in the apartment, always starting and ending in the kitchen. Above the stove, the pink-orange chef with the clock tummy would judge whether she was faster or not.Perhaps she was jumping with an invisible jump rope which would annoy the neighbors downstairs who might complain again. Maybe Victoria kept singing the same song over and over, either from Saturday morning cartoons or more...
Weekly Contest #347
The young man burst into the board room clutching folders and files, looking as if he had run through a wind tunnel on his way here. He took a breath to recover with all the eyes in the room turned on him.“I’m not late,” he explained, “just really early for the next meeting.”My gaze turned toward the Director, waiting for the explosion which was sure to come.However, Nathaniel Benedict, who had been leaning on the table in his usual commanding stance, surprised me. He stood upright, gave the newcomer an intense evaluating stare then said, “H...
Weekly Contest #342
The day finally came.The summons to the Ministry of Correction.I was overjoyed or, rather, I was very relieved.When the pulse arrived during my lunch break, I showed it to my manager, not sure if it was real. She told me it definitely was as she received an alert also.The morning after I gazed into the mirror, noticing the shadows under my eyes that stubbornly refused to stop shedding tears at inappropriate times during the day as well as interrupting my sleep.In the olden days, females and maybe males as well could mask under-eye shadows by...
Weekly Contest #341
Dear Harriet,Hoping that all is going well for you, including sorting the galleys of your latest novel which I am looking very forward to reading in due course. As always, my offer to read and respond to any of your early drafts is open.I can say with satisfaction that life is good here, the writing tolerable, and I shan’t complain of the rain which saves me the labour of watering the garden which, like other mundane tasks, I would ideally delegate if I had the means to do so.As to your query, I am in no way the expert that you so kindly imp...
Weekly Contest #340
By candlelight, I watched from high up on the wall as Esmeralda removed the emerald-studded combs from her hair, shook the shimmering, long, dark glossy mane free like a wild mare. She dropped the combs on the dressing table carelessly as if cheaply made, perhaps bought from the market that lined the main road once a week.She glanced at me, her green eyes reading my face as she had learned in her childhood, then consulted the huge hourglass which took up most of her desk, holding more than an hour and so much more. The sands flowed freely bu...
Weekly Contest #311
CW: Contains themes and/or references to sexual content Even gods must sleep betimes.The words formed in his mind before Hermes opened his eyes.He stared up at the anonymous ceiling. Not Shakespeare. He had seen all the plays, some more than once, at the original Globe Theatre and still kept a hardcover Collected Works in this digital age, so he knew the Bard’s writing well.A hitch of breath brought his attention to the sleeping woman beside him, so he turned his head toward Gabriela. He did not attempt to perceive her dream as these seldom ...
Weekly Contest #302
Daffodils raised their yellow trumpets all over the Yorkshire landscape to announce that longer days and better weather were on their way. However, with Mothering Sunday on the horizon, Carolyn was oblivious to their cheerful presence as if the cold and bleak, dark, dismal, gale-drenched winter continued to hold sway. She even still wore her winter coat though not her woolly hat and gloves more from being self-conscious than feeling warm enough as the winds came sharp and bitter sometimes even when the sun was shining.Up early to get her dai...
Weekly Contest #301
She drifted back to earth from a dream of moonlight shining down on the central courtyard of the temple as the women gathered to celebrate another full moon. The caw of a crow mingled with the sound of birdsong, a beam of sunlight warming her face and the rising grief that the temple was only a ruin now after so many centuries.But they had celebrated last night which always invigorated her. She opened her eyes and stretched, reached to secure the sheath of her hunting knife on the belt at her waist before sitting up and straightening her thi...
Weekly Contest #298
Although bright and sunny outside, it was a dark day when the texts flew back and forth that made our friendship trip and falter and sprawl like a centipede that had forgotten how to organise forward motion for each of those hundred tiny feet.Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.Mine the fault, mine the fault, mine the most grievous fault.Though I hadn’t seen the inside of a Catholic church for years except when attending essential family events and that one Christmas Midnight Mass when I was dating a devout Roman Catholic, the old Latin w...
Weekly Contest #297
Under the tranquil rise of light that fades the night sky before dawn, I set my jaw against the desire to vomit as I edged my way across the battlefield. A handful of crows already enjoyed their own treasure trove, feasting on those slimy ropes that spilled from a belly or pecking at an eye that would never see again.I felt most sorry for the horses who had not chosen this battle. One, which lay collapsed, gazed at me so pitifully that I changed course to have a closer look. The shattered foreleg from which the bone protruded made my stomach...
Weekly Contest #296
I changed my mind a dozen times before that Saturday morning came in the height of summer or what passes for such in Britain.Much too good at talking myself out of one decision and into another and back again. Story of my life, relationships and jobs that drained me, sticking it out in the hopes of improvement which never happened or only in fits and starts that failed to satisfy.But when the day arrived that I finally came to grips with the situation, for once and for all, my choice seemed not just inevitable but as if it had been the only ...
Weekly Contest #295
I couldn’t resist. You know what I’m like.Because I know how confused mortals can get, I was careful, though.The muses would have laughed. I wore black and shrunk myself down into the form of an elderly widow. Uncomfortable, but I could bear it for the hour or so that this would take.I must say the tiny velvet hat adorned with a black-petalled rose was the exquisite final touch.A black lace curtain concealed my face.I walked with a slight hesitation as if maybe I needed a walking stick but was too proud to use one. This was something of a mi...
Weekly Contest #294
“I want to talk about a pair of elephants,” I said as the end credits rolled for It’s A Wonderful Life on the Panasonic flat-screen television that we had saved up for and finally purchased in the after-Christmas sales. We had allowed a small contribution from our twenty-three-year-old daughter for both of our birthdays and Christmas combined.My other half looked at me with a dubious expression. “Let me guess. You want us to adopt some elephants through World Wildlife, is that it?”“Much as that idea has merit,” I replied, “we’ll circle back ...
Weekly Contest #293
On the eve of Midsummer’s Day, Fredric looked around the crowded High Street for anything green. He saw various bits of green clothing that people were wearing, a shiny dark green handbag, an emerald-striped shopping carrier, but no trace of the feathered fluff ball.“You don’t make it easy,” he muttered, standing still outside W.H. Smith’s bookshop. Surely, it was only five minutes since their arrival. Then he remembered missing the first train and glanced at his watch. “I’m late!” he told nobody in particular. “Again.” A woman walking along...
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